The fret of not seeing a punch or kick coming my way and getting seriously hurt causes me to use every ploy I can come up with to stall my first fight, like hiding in the corner looking down, pretending I’m invisible. I manage to delay my initiation fight for six weeks, until Douglas finally directs me to step into the ring. As I fear, my first fight is very humiliating and ugly. I’m five-nine but I only weigh about 110 pounds. Do to my fuzzy blind hole, I am constantly swept off my feet, that is, when I’m not being effortlessly, and painfully, punched to the floor, including by women old enough to be my Grandmother. I am smaller, lighter, and less experienced than even the newest students, and I’m clearly outmatched. Consequently, I am matched up with girls and younger kids, but do to my sight even they are cautioned to go easy on me. Needless to say, this is deeply demoralizing.
Nevertheless, if I want to fight like Bruce Lee, I have to keep my chin up and keep plodding on.